


Birth Day

by SandyQuinn



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Grunkle Bill AU, cute and dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:55:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyQuinn/pseuds/SandyQuinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippet from my dumb grunkle Bill au in tumblr. Mabel poses a question to Bill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birth Day

“Grunkle Bill?" 

Bill Cipher, the dream demon, the prince of nightmares, the being of pure energy and malice, and currently a relatively chubby human in a Mystery Shack t-shirt, looked up from the stuffed robin he was gluing toothpicks on and peered down at the beaming face of his pseudo-niece. Mabel was holding one of her scrapbooks in a purposeful manner, which usually indicated either trouble or endless entertainment for Bill. She was also wearing a sweater with an exclamation mark on it. This was a bad sign.

"Shooting Star,” Bill drawled, sticking one glue-sticky toothpick in his hair. 

“What is it? Do you want more photographs of Stanley? I’ll have them, for a price!" 

"No, no, I already finished the bathing suit section,” Mabel waved him off. “Actually, I was wondering - when’s your birthday, Grunkle Bill? I mean, even if it’s not in summer, Dipper and I can still send you a card! I want to put you on my list, see -” and she slid a piece of paper from between her scrapbook pages, presenting Bill with a colourful chart, with the doodled faces of her social circle and a complex system of smiley stickers that Bill assumed rated flesh tenderness. 

“A - birthday?” he paused, sorting through the information in his head. Basic human things tended to be blurry and confusing in dreams where he pulled most of his knowledge from. He was  _pretty_ sure birthdays didn’t involve a goat-headed mother figure cutting a living turkey with a candle stuck on its ass while your third grade teacher asked for your math homework. Relatively sure. 

“What’s a birthday, kiddo?" 

Mabel gaped at him. "What’s a - Grunkle Bill, don’t you - haven’t you ever celebrated your birthday? You know, the day that you were born?” A little further away Stanford, who’d been immersed in his notebook, stopped scribbling, trying very badly to pretend he wasn’t listening in. 

“Ha ha!” Bill said, to buy time in front of Mabel’s enormous shocked eyes. “Of course I - well, I mean, not exactly -” he gave up. “Does having other people worship you count?" 

"No,” Mabel said solemnly. “No, it doesn’t.” She paused. “Unless there was cake." 

"I don’t think there was,” Bill said doubtfully. “I don’t think they ate cake. At least not the kind with frosting!" 

"Well, it’s okay!” Mabel said, cheering up a little.“We can just celebrate your birthday this year! When were you born, Grunkle Bill?" 

”…Ha ha!“ Bill said desperately. 

"You don’t know?” Mabel asked incredulously. 

“It was a while back, kiddo!" 

"Exactly how old  _are_ you, Grunkle Bill?” Dipper chimed in from the couch.

“Uh, hold on -” Bill examined his hands. “Do you think if I cut something off I can count the rings?" 

Stanford cleared his throat. "I’d say forty, forty-five. You look younger, unless one looks at your eyes." 

Bill had a brief pause. "Thirty-nine?” he asked hopefully. 

Stanford rolled his eyes. “Thirty-nine it is. It’s the threes, isn’t it?" 

"It’s my  _aesthetic_ , Stanford,” Bill leered. Stanford rubbed a hand over his eyes, muttering something inaudible. 

“You still haven’t told me your birthday,” Mabel admonished. “I need to put it in my list, Grunkle Bill! I have a system, see, for everyone’s birth stones and power trees and - " 

"What does it even matter, Shooting Star?” Bill asked. “I mean, all humans are on an inevitable path of mortality, decay and death, why would you celebrate the day that you’re officially _older_ based on your primitive chronological measurements?" 

"It’s not just that!” Mabel exclaimed passionately. “It’s about Having Good Time, Grunkle Bill! Celebrating who  _you_ are! Dipper and I always have  _awesome_ birthdays ‘cause we’re twins and everything’s double - " 

"Wait,” Bill said. “Presents? Adoration?” He turned to Stanford accusingly. “I want a birthday!" 

"Mabel’s talking about kids’ parties,” Stanford said blandly. “When humans get older, they rarely celebrate in such a -" 

"Cake!” Bill yowled. “Cake!" 

"Cake!” Mabel chanted. 

“Cake!” Dipper chimed, joining in. 

“What, you want to just  _pick_ a day -" 

"Cake, cake, cake!” Bill, Mabel, and Dipper chanted. 

“And presents,” Bill added primly. “Worship me, Stanford Pines!" 

"All right, all right,” Stanford said, looking exasperated. “How’s tomorrow for you?" 

"August 2nd!” Mabel squeaked in delight. “Grunkle Bill’s a Leo!" 

"Seems about right,” Dipper said dryly. 

“Cease your nattering, brats!” Bill crowed, his yellow eyes shining with new delight, getting up and gesturing imperiously. “My birthday’s tomorrow! Pencil it in! Slaughter your lambs! Get me some offerings!" 

"Presents, Bill,” Stanford said, leaning his face on his hand. “They’re called presents.”

“Get some presents! I prefer gold!" 

"I’d better go tell Ley,” Stanford sighed, getting up from his chair. 

“I’m gonna go make a cake!” Mabel exclaimed with considerably more enthusiasm.

“And remember!” Bill called out after them. “I’m turning thirty-nine!  _Thirty-nine_!" 


End file.
